


Par For the Course

by chibi_nightowl



Series: Myth-Bats [12]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Bat-Family Shenanigans, Brotherly Bonding, Gen, Golf, Humor, Language, Learning by Video Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 07:17:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14420343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibi_nightowl/pseuds/chibi_nightowl
Summary: “I’m sure I have no idea why you thought a video game would help you learn to play golf,” Alfred chides him as he helps Tim adjust his stance.“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” Tim replies innocently.





	Par For the Course

**Author's Note:**

> Myth-Bats is back and it’s time for some fun!! This is from the last season of Mythbusters where the myth that video games help improve real life skills is put to the test. I couldn't resist.

“You want me to what?” Tim asks blandly. He’s pretty sure Bruce is joking but he needs to double check.  
  
“I need you to attend the annual WE sponsored golf tournament in my stead.” Bruce doesn’t remove his attention from the computer. Some complicated energy analysis is going on up on the massive screen. That never bodes well for Bruce’s continued presence in Gotham. He’s about to leave for JLA work.    
  
“I understand that part,” Tim replies, hands on his hips as he glares at his mentor. “It’s the other part of what you said.”  
  
“That you need to golf?” This garners a quick look from Bruce.  
  
“Yeah. That. Bruce, you do know I’ve never golfed a day in my life.”  
  
“Oh.” Bruce looks confused. “But your dad took you to the Bristol Country Club whenever he was in town. Jack golfed. A lot.”  
  
Tim sees where this is going. “Dad did. I didn’t. I dragged around his golf clubs.”  
  
“So you’ve never played?”  
  
“Nope.”  
  
Bruce frowns. He clearly hasn’t anticipated this turn of events. “Well, how fast do you think you can learn?”  
  
Like Tim has much choice in the matter. “How long do I have?” This really doesn’t bode well for his plans for the next few days.  
  
“Two days.”  
  
“You suck.”  
  
~*~*~*~

When Jason finds out about this, because he somehow does, he thinks it’s hilarious. He’s perched on Tim’s sofa, a slice of pizza in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other even though it’s before noon. Tim knows this to mean he’s settling in for some serious entertainment.  
  
“You do know that learning life skills from video games is a myth, right?” Jason drawls, amusement plain to see in his eyes.  
  
“Yes,” Tim grits out and focuses on the screen in front of him. “But I can’t get a lesson squeezed in before the event.”  
  
“Seriously? Even with all the money you can throw around?”  
  
“I refuse to pay money for this.” Tim takes a swing, the movement mirrored on the TV. He frowns and adjusts his feet.  
  
“Then the rest of the world will enjoy badly taken video of you sucking at something rich boys are supposed to grow up on.”  
  
“Ask me if I care.” Tim takes another swing.  
  
“I know better. But you can bet your ass the demon brat won’t let you live it down.” It was a low blow and Tim cringes.  
  
“Shit. Ugh, no. No. I got this.” He sucks in a deep breath. “I can do this.”  
  
“Myth busted, Timbers.”  
  
Tim ignores his brother and returns to the game. He’s bound and determined to get something out of it.

Or not.  
  
A couple hours later, Tim throws the remote at Jason. “Hey!” he protests, only his quick reflexes saving him from a new bruise. “I didn’t do nothing!”  
  
“Aside from offer oh-so-helpful commentary.” Tim flops down next to him and picks up his tablet. He can’t believe he’s doing this, but desperate times call for desperate measures.  
  
“I was plenty helpful.” Jason grins and slaps Tim hard on the shoulder. “It’s called constructive criticism.”  
  
“You made popcorn and threw it at me each time the ball landed in the sandpit.”  
  
Jason shakes his head. “Listen to you. Making up stories. I even looked up golf terms and read them to you.”  
  
Tim bites his lip because, yeah, that was actually helpful. “I need to find a driving range somewhere and practice some real swings.”  
  
“Strokes.” Jason waggles his eyebrows.  
  
“Whatever,” Tim shoves him hard with an elbow in the ribs, enjoying the grunt it gets him. “And get your mind out of the gutter. I need help stealing Bruce’s golf clubs.”  
  
“Well, why didn’t you say so sooner?”  
  
~*~*~*~

“Okay, so I care jack-shit about golf but these are pretty fucking sweet.” Jason inspects one of Bruce’s drivers and gives it a few test swings. Tim refuses to say stroke because what Jason just did doesn’t resemble a golf swing in the slightest. If he isn’t careful, someone’s losing their head.  
  
“Then how do you know if they’re any good?” Tim takes a driver out of the bag and looks it over. All he sees is a glorified murder weapon.  
  
“We just stole these from Bruce. Do you think whoever bought these would have gotten any less than the best?” The incredulity in Jason’s voice says it all. “We should totally pawn these when you’re done and see what we get.”  
  
Tim doesn’t bother to respond, focusing instead on the bucket of balls and the golf tee in front of him. He swears they’re mocking him. Learning how to golf is harder than it looks but he’ll be damned if he admits this to his older brother. Jason is deriving way too much enjoyment out of his misery. So much that he’s rather surprised Dick hasn’t called yet. This kind of thing is right up his alley.  
  
“Have you gone shopping yet?” Jason voice interrupts Tim’s musings.  
  
“Shopping for what?” Tim asks and lines up his first shot. He adjusts his feet and tries to swing from his hips.  
  
“Ugly golf clothes. You’ve at least got to wear the socks.”  
  
The swing isn’t too bad. He even manages to hit the ball several yards. “I’m leaving that all in Alfred’s hands. I’d rather let him dress me than you.”  
  
“You’re taking all the fun outta this.” Jason grabs a bunch of balls and sticks most of them in his pocket. He drops the remaining one and takes a swing. It goes much further than Tim’s did. But that’s not what has his attention.  
  
No, what has Tim’s eyes glued to Jason is his nearly perfect form. The taller man drops another ball and takes a second swing. Again, his form is on point.  
  
“You asshole,” Tim seethes. He’s seriously considering throwing the golf club at Jason. “Since when do you know how to play _golf_?”  
  
Jason gives him his biggest shit eating grin. “I learned from Alfred. My first winter at the Manor was horrible since I wasn’t allowed out on the streets yet, so to help keep me occupied after school, we’d hit a bucket of balls down in the cave. This is about all I can do though. I’ve never been on a real course before.”  
  
Tim flashes back on all the comments Jason made earlier while he messed around with his game. While snide and delivered in a very backhanded manner that’s so typical of Jason, they were mostly helpful. Some detective he is. “Do you know what all these clubs are?” he asks instead of admitting his shortcoming.  
  
“Yeah. Never used more than this one or the putter though.” Jason drops another ball and gracefully sends it flying.  
  
“I used to caddy for my dad but he never told me what each one was for.” Tim shoves aside the memory. He still feels guilty over not trying very hard to even ask the couple times Jack brought him with. He and his dad didn’t talk much, even before Robin took over his life.  
  
And then, after his mom died, how could spending time with his dad compare to the thrill? Tim’s old enough to recognize that Jack tried to repair their relationship after his brush with death. But he was already so far gone that nothing could give him the chance. What could an ordinary man offer when his son regularly brushed shoulders with the likes of Batman, Superman, and even Wonder Woman?  
  
“What are you trying to say here, Timmers?” Jason shoots him a sharp look. “You need a caddy?”  
  
Tim carefully places a golf ball on his tee and flubs his stroke. “I need a miracle.”  
  
~*~*~*~

“This isn’t what I had in mind,” Tim says warily, eyeing the rather cheesy obstacles and worn out putting greens.  
  
Jason ignores him and slings an arm over his shoulder, hauling him to the first course. “You gotta work on all parts of your game. If you even make it close to the hole, you’ve got to be able to put.”  
  
“This is stupid.” Tim honestly thought Jason would have no interest in miniature golf. Not with the large clown at the end for the ball return.  
  
“Of course it is. Stupid fun!” Jason grins more. “I even made a call to see if we could get some company.”  
  
Tim blanches. “No. Please, if there is a god, no.”  
  
“Timmy! Little Wing!” an all too familiar voice shouts from up ahead. “We’re over here!”  
  
Dick, Stephanie, and Damian are waiting for them at the start of the course. Tim’s only consolation is that Damian looks like a little thundercloud just waiting to rain on everyone’s parade.  
  
It’s official. Jason is a dead man. Again. Tim will make sure it’s as humiliating as possible. “I hate you,” he mutters.  
  
“No you don’t.” Jason cuffs him on the back of the head. “You hate Bruce for making this all possible.”  
  
Fair enough. Tim modifies his plan for revenge to include Bruce too.  
  
Stephanie bounces towards them, excitement in every step. “Oh my god, I haven’t been to a miniature golf course in years! This is going to be so much fun!”  
  
Dick’s also grinning from ear to ear. “This was a great idea, Tim. Not sure why you had Jason set it up, but hey! Whatever works!” He hands Tim and Jason their putters and golf balls, yellow and red respectively.  
  
Damian heaves a massive sigh, sounding so put upon like only teens in the midst of puberty ever do. It always makes Tim wonder how much worse he’s going to get because Damian at 13 is a complete pain.  
  
“I haven’t got all day,” the teen says with a scowl. “Let’s get this over with. Some of us have more important things to do.”  
  
“Like what, twerp?” Jason stalks forward and assesses the first course. All he has to do is aim for the center ramp where the ball disappears into the castle and comes out the back side somewhere.  
  
Damian opens his mouth again but Jason cuts him off. “You know what? Forget I asked. Life isn’t about training and patrol. Live a little.” With that, he takes one easy swing and sends the ball flying up the worn out green astroturf and up the ramp. He shoots a grin at Tim. “You gonna beat me, Replacement?”  
  
Not once has anyone mentioned Tim’s pending date with disaster the day after tomorrow. This is just Jason trying to help and still get his digs in because that’s what he does.  
  
Tim grips the cheap putter firmly. “I’m gonna kick your ass.”  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
He doesn’t. Stephanie beats them all soundly. Damian loses and Dick just barely manages to save the putter the teen throws from hitting Jason squarely in the back.  
  
~*~*~*~

The next day, Tim wakes up at what passes as an early hour for him and heads to the Manor. It’s time to put his pride aside and seek help from the one person he should have gone to in the first place.  
  
Alfred.  
  
“I’m sure I have no idea why you thought a video game would help you learn to play golf,” the old butler chides him as he helps Tim adjust his stance. It’s early enough in the day that no one else is around.  
  
“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” Tim replies innocently.  
  
“You boys and your toys.” Alfred shakes his head and removes a driver from his own set of clubs. “Now, watch me closely.”  
  
He doesn’t say anything about the ones Jason helped Tim steal yesterday.  
  
After a few hours of proper coaching and training, Tim takes a break. He’s been dealing with nonstop golf for a day and a half now and his brain can’t take more. It’s fine with Alfred, who makes lunch for them both. Afterwards, before Tim leaves, he hands him a clothing bag.  
  
“Your attire for tomorrow, as well as your entry pass and schedule. Don’t forget Master Bruce’s clubs. I expect them back in good repair.”  
  
Busted.  
  
“Nothing ever gets past you, does it, Alfred?” Tim accepts the bag and resists taking a peek. It can’t be that bad. Right?  
  
“Rarely. But Master Jason is not exactly subtle unless he’s trying.”  
  
~*~*~*~

The morning of the golf tournament arrives and Tim takes his first step onto an actual golf course in years. This is going to suck. Royally. Bruce has no idea how much he’s going to owe him for this.  
  
He’d spent the previous afternoon back at the driving range. At least that part he isn’t completely horrible at now. Just the rest of it.  
  
Tim wants the embarrassment to be over.  
  
“Hey, your clothes match!” someone says, sidling up next to him. It’s Jason.  
  
“What are you doing here?” Tim asks in disbelief. And then gapes because Jason is wearing a similar outfit to his own, complete with golf gloves and a polo shirt. He’s pretty sure he hasn’t seen adult Jason wear a collared shirt ever.   
  
“Someone has to haul Bruce’s clubs around for you.” Jason easily hefts the large bag, smirking all the while.  
  
“You really want to see me screw up.”  
  
“Nah. I’ve got a vested interest in you. We’ll see this through to the bitter end.”  
  
Tim doesn’t buy it. He knows Jason. “Alfred put you up to this for helping me steal Bruce’s clubs?”  
  
“Yeah.” He doesn’t even sound ashamed at being caught out. “Alfred knows everything. You’d think we’d learn this by now.”  
  
“It’s an adage to live by.” Tim puts on his sunglasses and squares his shoulders. “Okay, let’s get this over with. And when we’re done, you can help me plot my revenge on Bruce.”  
  
“Now you’re speakin’ my language.”

 


End file.
